


i want you (to want me)

by Pinkmanite



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, M/M, Reaction, briefly mentioned Kimmo Timonen/Teuvo Teravainen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 14:24:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17941382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkmanite/pseuds/Pinkmanite
Summary: “He’s kinda like, daddy to me sometimes.” —Sebastian Aho (2019)





	i want you (to want me)

It’s the easiest trick in the book, especially at this point, and really Sebastian should’ve thought of it sooner. 

Despite popular belief, Sebastian knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s not like he’s a kid playing with wildfire, he’s very well-practiced in doing, well. Doing these kinds of things. 

He’s had plenty of time to figure himself out, to figure out what he likes and what he wants. What he needs. Plenty of time to figure out how to get it, how to pick out the right candidates, how to work them until he’s satisfied with the result.

Which is why Willie—sorry,  _ Justin _ —is a little bit of a frustrating case here. 

It’s not necessarily a total L yet, even this far into the season. Actually, Sebastian prefers to think of this as a challenge. A test, maybe, to see how good he really is. Perhaps just to keep him on his toes. But he  _ knows _ it’s not a total loss because he sees how Justin reacts to all of his pushes and pulls, sometimes catches the way Justin really looks at him when he thinks he isn’t looking back. 

He knows that the message is clear by now, knows that Justin knows what exactly he’s laid out on the table. Knows that Justin is, at the very least, intrigued. It’s only a matter of getting him to step off of his moral high ground, or whatever. It’s always the hardest step, but it’s been particularly difficult this time around.

Sometimes Sebastian thinks it’s not worth the effort. After all, there are plenty of other guys he’s already worked out arrangements with, be it in the organization or around the league. There’s no immediate desperation—Sebastian never has a shortage of those kinds of friends and probably never will—but there’s something enticing about the game of it, the thrill of working for the high fruit and finally getting the satisfaction of biting into its juice.

So Sebastian has yet to give up, has yet to slow down. He’s careful to pace it, to be deliberate, to avoid completely throwing the whole thing out the window, but he’s determined as ever to land his prize.

And if he has to pull out the very last ace hidden up his sleeve? 

Then so be it.

 

~

 

To be honest, it’s actually kind of Teuvo’s fault if anyone’s getting blamed here.

Sebastian doesn’t really like to admit it, but he’s running out of his usual tricks and he’s kind of stuck in his head about it. It’s not like, an  _ actual _ problem, but Sebastian’s kind of restless right now and he doesn’t think he can think on this alone for much longer. 

So he grabs his phone, finds some slides, and goes upstairs to knock on Teuvo’s door until he answers.

It takes a second, but eventually Teuvo opens the door with only a mildly annoyed glare.

“You could at least like, shoot a text or something,” he gripes, looking Sebastian up and down with a frown.

He’s pretty much in pajamas, sweats and an old team tee shirt that definitely has someone else’s number on it. He doesn’t remember exactly when or how he acquired it, but that’s not necessarily unusual for most of his loungewear. Besides, it’s just Teuvo, and he of all people is used to Sebastian’s ways. 

It’s not like he’s in any position to judge, anyway. 

Sebastian shrugs and shoulders his way in, right past Teuvo and straight into his kitchen. 

“Hey!” Teuvo tries, but it’s more defeated than anything. “You have your own food literally downstairs.”

But Sebastian is unphased. He takes a powerbar from the bowl on Teuvo’s counter then heads straight for the fridge, pushes stuff around until he finds the  _ real _ beer. 

He holds one up so Teuvo can see. “Want one?”

“That’s the last of what my mom brought,” Teuvo says. “We’re not getting more until someone else visits.”

Sebastian gives him a face. “So is that a yes?”

Teuvo sighs, waves a hand. “Yes, fine, but don’t complain to me later.”

He pops both the caps and drops them in the decorative Suomi pint glass by the fridge, their collection steadily growing. Teuvo’s already left him to plop back onto the couch, steadily flicking through the channels. 

Hands full, Sebastian carefully passes him one of the bottles before settling into his unofficial spot in the corner of the sectional. He kicks around the throw pillows until he’s carved out a comfortable enough spot. Teuvo lets him, steadily sipping his beer and pointedly savoring it, just so Sebastian sees. 

“So tell me what’s wrong,” Teuvo finally says, settling on some car restoration show, volume slid down to nearly nothing. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Sebastian says maybe too quickly. But it’s obvious that Teuvo knows him better by now because he raises an eyebrow at him and pointedly looks at the beer in his hand.

“Something’s always wrong when we have to bring out the big guns.”

Sebastian answers that with a hearty pull from his own bottle, a deliberate contrast to Teuvo’s little sips. “Fine, I’m running out of ideas.”

“Ideas?” Teuvo raises his bottle, about to take another one, maybe out of spite. “For?”

Rude of him to make Sebastian spell it out, but if that’s how he wants it, well— “For getting Willie to fuck me?”

Teuvo nearly chokes, which would’ve been unfortunate because he most definitely would’ve spewed beer all over his own furniture. But he manages to just barely swallow before coughing. Lucky him.

“Crude as always, Sepe,” Teuvo huffs, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand.

“Like you’re not,” he says right back. “Don’t play innocent, I know you.”

Teuvo rolls his eyes. “Warn a guy?” But then he considers, particularly about how Sebastian had gotten here, in his apartment, in the first place. “I guess that’s not really your talent, actually.”

“Anyway,” Sebastian brushes it off. “I know he’s into me—”

“Real humble, there.”

“—but I just need to hit him with something big. I’m nearly there. But I don’t know what else I can do.” He huffs, deflating further into the couch. He takes a sad bite out of the powerbar and takes an even sadder swig of his beer.

Teuvo kind of softens, just a little bit. He kicks his foot out until he can kick lightly at Sebastian’s leg, their own little brand of reassurance. 

“I know you’re not used to rejection, but sometimes it happens, babe.”

Sebastian shakes his head. “But that’s the thing, it’s not rejection. If he said no or gave me any signs of no I wouldn’t keep pushing, but I can tell he’s interested. He’s  _ so _ interested.”

“Sepe.”

“Seriously,” Sebastian insists. “You know it’s true, come on.”

Teuvo thinks about it, and eventually he shrugs. “Well I’m not going to argue differently.”

“I’m just,” Sebastian tries, “I’m not used to having to do this much.”

And while Teuvo visibly tries to hold it in, he laughs anyway, unable to behave for Sebastian’s sake. “God, you’re such a hoe.”

Sebastian throws a pillow at Teuvo’s head but he grins, laughs along with him. “Takes one to know one.”

Their beers are quickly set on the coffee table in favor of fistfuls of pillows. They fight with them for a bit, devolving into a healthy wrestle. It goes on until Teuvo straight up just sits on him, and Sebastian is too worn out to throw him off.

He dramatically taps out, thunking the floor with his fist.

“Stop,” Teuvo digs his heel into Sebastian’s leg. “You’re going to disturb my neighbors.”

“ _ I’m _ your downstairs neighbor,” Sebastian huffs. “And  _ you’re _ already disturbing me.”

Teuvo scoffs. “Well that’s just evens because you disturbed me first.”

“Yeah, yeah, but you secretly love it,” Sebastian says. “Now let me up, I tapped already.”

“Alright,” Teuvo acquiesces. He gets up first then holds out a hand to help Sebastian up, too. Sebastian half expects him to pull something, but he doesn’t so he pats his shoulder and goes back to his couch corner. 

Grabbing for the remote, Teuvo’s about to put the volume back up, but instead he pauses, looks to Sebastian.

“You know,” he starts, carefully. “Kimmo would get really horny whenever I told people he was my dad. Always worked.”

Sebastian almost chokes on air. He blinks a couple of times. “I’m sorry, what?”

Teuvo rolls his eyes. “Come on, Sepe, it’s the easiest trick in the book. And practically everyone’s doing it these days.”

“Doing  _ what, _ ” Sebastian pushes, just to confirm exactly what Teuvo is suggesting he do here.

“Oh, who’s the prude now?” Teuvo throws back at him. “Next time you have media, slip something in about Willie being like, your daddy. If it backfires, blame it on the English.” He waves his hand around vageuly. “I know you know exactly what I’m saying here.”

And the worst part is, the more Teuvo says it, the less crazy it seems. Sebastian lets the idea roll around in his head until, well. “I can… I think… I can actually work with that.”

 

~

 

The thing is, the thought of slipping in a “daddy” bomb somewhere opens up a few other options before Sebastian has to go big and actually go through with it.

Justin invites him over after practice with promises of a home-cooked meal and some Netflix. It’s the typical captainly kind of thing, not out of the ordinary, not for anyone on the team generally, nor for Sebastian specifically. But Sebastian knows it’s been more and more frequently just the two of them. He’s kept track of details like that. For no reason in particular, of course. 

“I wanna try out this new pan,” Justin tells him on the drive over. “It’s that cast iron stuff, supposed to be really good.”

“Really good for pork chops, I hope,” Sebastian grins. “I’m starving.”

“One track mind, huh, kid?” Justin shakes his head, laughing. “You’re always starving.”

“Better feed me, then,” he quips.

Justin doesn’t fail him. He puts Sebastian to work, though, gets him to help with the potatoes and get the broccoli going. It’s not that Sebastian doesn’t know how to cook, but he’s been a little lazy about it, especially when it’s easy enough to bully Teuvo into splitting delivery fees with him. 

But Justin insists that the actually cooking part is just as important as the eating part, insists that it’s almost calming. And that the food tastes better when it’s the result of your labor and love. 

Sebastian almost scoffs at that. Talk to him more about labor and love here, oh come on.

He still does as he’s told, though, content to be in Justin’s kitchen alongside him, making something with him. The company’s not too bad, either. 

When they finally get to eat, Justin pours out a couple glasses of wine and is attentive to keeping Sebastian’s topped off. So maybe it can be attributed to liquid confidence, the moment when Sebastian blinks up at Justin and smiles sweetly. When he looks him in the eye and says, “I‘m glad you take care of me,” just barely this side of cheeky. 

He doesn’t miss the way Justin falters, doesn’t miss the way his face heats, the way he looks down at his plate and won’t look Sebastian in the eye right away. 

But eventually, “It’s my pleasure.”

And suddenly everything is back to normal. Sebastian is admittedly a little disappointed when the rest of the night stays like that, when their movie stays a movie and when Justin drives him home right after the credits. 

Yet, he can’t get Justin’s reaction from dinner out of his head. He keeps replaying it back, can’t stop thinking about it, about what it  _ means. _ There’s no way he could’ve read that incorrectly. 

A little disappointed, sure, but. More hopeful than ever. 

 

~

 

Sebastian doesn’t give up, but the little slip-ins aren’t quite working. They chip away more and more and he’s very close, he can feel it, but it’s not quite there yet.

And if that’s not enough on it’s own, Teuvo keeps throwing him looks every now and then, always appropriately timed, of course. His particular favorite seems to be when PR writes his name up on the board for media.

“Shut up,” Sebastian mouths to Teuvo across the dressing room.

Teuvo stares back, seemingly innocent, but Sebastian can practically hear his voice scolding him in his head.

So, Sebastian takes a deep breath, goes through all of his exhausted options in his head one last time, and decides that the next time it comes up, he’ll take the opportunity.

It doesn’t happen that day. Or the next night, or the next, but eventually Sebastian is made available to the media and a reporter asks him the golden question.

“I do need to ask, though, you sit next to him in the locker room,” the reporter starts, and suddenly Sebastian realizes that it’s happening. “What kind of leader is he, what kind of captain has he been that you’ve learned this year, especially under Justin Williams?”

There’s no turning back now.

"He leads it in so many ways. He's, uh... he can be… you're— you know, uh—”

Well. Sebastian trips over the words, almost chickens out, but. This is what he’s been waiting for, this is it. So… here goes everything.

“He’s kinda like, daddy to me sometimes,” Sebastian says quickly, all at once, and then continues to ramble on, as if he could cover it up.

But the second he gets out of media, there are already two sets of eyes intently waiting for him, both quite wide, but one perhaps a lot more charged than the other.

Teuvo’s more in the lines of awe, and he doesn’t say anything out loud to him, but the look is loaded with both a “good job” and an “oh my god” and a few other things of that nature. Sebastian hears the words unsaid loud and clear. 

But Sebastian knows that his work isn’t quite done. He goes back to his stall, ready for what’s waiting for him in the next one over. 

He doesn’t falter when he meets Justin’s eyes, looks up at him through his lashes even, turns the dial up past ten. His heart is beating hard in his chest but there’s absolutely no backing out now. 

“Hey,” is all he says. 

Justin squints at him, really looks at him, but Sebastian recognizes the flush on his cheeks, notices how hard he’s trying to keep his face neutral. 

Finally, Justin sighs, big arms crossed over his chest. “Oh you little shit.”

 

~

 

Justin practically drags him back to his place, nearly throws him in his car and drives a little more urgently than usual. He lets Sebastian continuously fiddle with the radio instead of swatting him away like he usually does. 

It’s otherwise a quiet ride; when it comes to either of them speaking, anyway. Justin seems very determined, and besides, Sebastian is too focused on avoiding any kind of fuck up when he’s worked so hard to get here. 

But as they’re turning down the familiar road that Justin’s house is on, Justin glances over and takes a deep breath. “You’ve been driving me fucking crazy, you know that?”

Sebastian hums along with the current song, suddenly thrown right back into his element. He taps his fingers along the edge of the window, feels the familiar control start to flow back into him. 

“I know,” he says, cocky.

“Christ,” is all Justin says, under his breath.

 

~

 

Justin is more...  _ thorough _ than Sebastian is used to.

It’s not like he’s saying that he’s used to getting fucked half-clothed in the nearest closet (well, most of the time, anyway), but there’s usually a little more impatience all around, a little more of a rush to get the main event. 

But Justin hangs up their coats, gets them both glasses of water to take upstairs. Even when they get up to his bedroom and onto his bed, he carefully helps Sebastian out of his clothes, unwraps him like a gift, and sets both sets of their clothing neatly on top of his dresser.

So that’s how Sebastian finds himself lounging on his captain’s bed in nothing but his underwear, eyes glued to the bulge in the front of Justin’s own.

“Yeah?” Justin grins, and Sebastian’s gaze snaps back up to meet his eyes. He can feel the heat in his cheeks, sure that it’s spreading down to his chest. 

Justin knees his way onto the bed, deliberately wedges one knee between Sebastian’s, forcing his thighs further apart. He obliges, of course, more than happy to finally get Justin like this.

Kissing him is more like getting kissed  _ by _ him, and it’s exactly the way Sebastian loves yet never gets. He kisses back, of course, but it’s Justin’s show, under his total control. He hovers over him, one arm braced to the side of his head and one tangled in the hair at Sebastian’s nape.

“Fuck,” Justin murmurs, hot breath over Sebastian’s lips. He nips at the bottom one and Sebastian leans into it, melting in Justin’s hands. 

Sebastian grips Justin’s shoulder with one arm, runs his hands over his chest with the other. He shamelessly grinds into Justin’s knee, opens his mouth wider for Justin to tongue into him even more.

Justin slides his knee up further, gives Sebastian plenty of pressure right on his erection. It works, because Sebastian groans into Justin’s mouth, low and wanting. 

It’s then that Justin starts to travel lower, tilts Sebastian’s head to the side so he can kiss wetly along his jaw, then tilts it back so he can bury his face in Sebastian’s neck and suck marklessly over his pulse-points. 

Sebastian is practically squirming under him, can’t help but run his mouth in incoherent strings of  _ yes _ and  _ oh _ and  _ please _ , patched together in both languages, slipping even further into a bigger mess.

It’s fucking perfect. 

Justin reads him well, moves even further down until he’s nipping along his collarbone. He lets go of his hold on Sebastian’s neck, instead traces his fingers along Sebastian’s jawline until he reaches his lips. He rests two fingers on his lips, traces the seam before pressing. 

Sebastian obeys the silent command, opens his mouth enough for Justin to shove his fingers in. He tongues over them without Justin having to ask, eagerly sucks around them, nice and sloppy. 

Sebastian can feel Justin grin against his skin. “That’s my good boy, eager for it,” he murmurs.

Justin takes his time, explores Sebastian’s chest, every curve and jut. He lets Sebastian continue to moan around his fingers, rubs soft circles on the underside of his chin with his thumb. 

He gradually works his way back up the other side, back on Sebastian’s neck and eventually back to his lips, withdrawing his fingers and replacing them with his mouth again. He pauses after a moment, lips hovering over Sebastian’s, close enough to still brush against his. 

“What would like?” He whispers, breathy. “Whatever you want, baby, I’ll give it to you.”

It takes Sebastian a second to think about it. In fact, he almost tells Justin to decide for him, but then it hits him and he thinks he knows what to ask for.

“I wanna blow you,” Sebastian says, quiet and all at once. 

Justin freezes, and then he’s kissing him again, harder now. When he pulls back this time, it’s breathless but with more purpose. “Are you sure that’s what you want, sweetheart?”

Sebastian nods enthusiastically, then. “Yes, daddy.”

“Oh,  _ fuck, _ ” Justin growls, rests his forehead on Sebastian’s with his eyes screwed shut, composure slipping fast. 

Everything kind of happens quickly after that, Justin’s careful pace from before shattered in one carefully placed word. It’s still good though, still good when Justin rolls him to the side with his big hands so he can settle against the headboard. Still good when Justin directs him until he’s between his thighs, face so close to Justin’s cock that he can feel the warmth of it radiating off of him.

“Go on,” Justin says, gentle, from above him. Sebastian looks up until he can meet his eyes, then delicately gets his slender fingers hooked under the elastic of the waistband, tugs until they slide off.

Justin’s erection springs free and Sebastian can’t help but stare, mesmerized by the way it bobs. He’s a good size, maybe a little average, but girthier than what Sebastian’s used to. 

“I know it’s nice to look at,” Justin starts after a second, more smug than anything, “but I’ve jacked off to that filthy little mouth of yours for a while now, would be nice to actually feel it.”

Sebastian takes a deep breath, but Justin doesn’t wait, already has his dick in his hand and Sebastian’s head in his other. He traces the head over Sebastian’s mouth, smears precome over his already red and swollen lips. 

“God,” Sebastian slips on the next exhale. But he steadies himself until he’s ready, determined to do this right. He wipes his mouth on one palm and uses it to wrap around the base. Only then does he lean in, in and in and in, but just when he’s about to take the tip in, he stops.

Justin is about to say something, but Sebastian acts quickly. He slides his hand up until it’s holding the head in place, still enough to finish leaning in and delicately place a kiss, closed-mouth and chaste but still lingering, right over the slit.

Watching him, Justin swears, a little overwhelmed. “Fucking little  _ tease, _ ” he growls, fisting a hand good and hard in Sebastian’s hair, firm on the back of his head. 

“‘m not,” Sebastian murmurs against the head, then immediately wraps his lips around it, sucking hard and fast and expertly so, all before Justin can say anything back. 

“Oh, oh,” Justin says, “that’s right, baby, so fucking good.”

Sebastian takes the praise well, goes down further and takes more and more, keeps his cheeks hallowed and his focus high. He doesn’t slack off, quick to stroke where he hasn’t quite reached with his mouth just yet. He brings his other hand up, too, gets it on Justin’s balls to expertly massage them between his fingers. 

Justin moans low, the grip in Sebastian’s hair tightens, clenching and unclenching in rhythm. 

He pops off for a second, speaks over the wet tip. “You can fuck my mouth if you want,” Sebastian offers casually, like it’s nothing and not something he knows will go straight to Justin’s dick. “Push on my head, whatever,” he looks up at him innocently. “I like it,” then, for good measure, “daddy.”

With a groan, Justin tugs on his hair hard enough for Sebastian to feel in along his scalp. He inhales, sharp.

“You  _ like _ it,” Justin repeats to himself, incredulous. “Lord forgive me.”

Sebastian scoffs. “I think you’ve already passed that line. By a lot.” But with that, he gets back to work, easily swallowing down half of Justin’s dick in one go.

“Bratty little slut, aren’t you?” Justin says fondly. Sebastian responds with a short little hum around his cock, in time with the up-pass. 

That must be enough for Justin to take the cue. He readjusts his grip on the back of Sebastian’s head until he has a better hold and more control. He waits until Sebastian bobs up. Once he’s only got the head in his mouth, Justin pushes down and cants his hips up at the same time, effectively fucking into Sebastian’s face. 

He watches him carefully on the fist couple of thrusts, looks out for any tells of real discomfort. But Sebastian’s eyes are shut in concentration, he breathing is carefully spaced, in and out through his nose. His throat relaxes, rippling around Justin’s dick. 

It’s enough to disregard the droplets of tears that well at the corners of his eyes, just enough to wet his lashes together before they dry up. 

“You should see yourself, baby,” Justin says, low. “So fucking good for me, so fucking easy for it.”

Sebastian lets the words wash over him, lets himself get lost in it, fully immersed in Justin all around him. He’s hyper-aware of Justin’s thighs bracketed around either side of his head, hyper-aware of Justin’s big hands on him, even hyper-aware of Justin’s goddamn presence in his head. 

So while Sebastian lets his mouth go slack, lets Justin take over him there, he still focuses on his hands, keen to show off the full extent of his talents. He rolls his balls in his palm, just the way he’s learned best drives his partner crazy. He keeps nice shallow pumps at the base, twists his wrist in time with each thrust.

To top it all off, he peers up at Justin, angles it just right that it’s through his wet lashes, eyes wide. It works like a charm because, well.

“Sebby, baby, I’m gonna—” Justin tries to pull him off but Sebastian goes right back down, all the way this time, determined. “ _ Fuck,  _ baby.”

Justin comes, and only then does Sebastian pull back until it’s just the tip in his mouth. He swallows most of it, one of his party tricks, but lets enough dribble out and down his chin, enough until he’s sure that he looks like a mess. Like he’s been absolutely wrecked. 

He waits until Justin’s finished, until he’s thrown himself into the pillows, panting. That’s when Sebastian finally pulls off fully, sits up until Justin can see him, can see just what he’s done to him.

“Oh,  _ fuck _ me,” Justin says when he does look. “Gorgeous little thing.”

Sebastian scoffs. “I’m filthy.”

“And if I were your age I’d be getting hard again just looking at you like this. Dripping in come like a fucking slut.”

Rolling his eyes, Sebastian crawls up until he can straddle Justin’s thighs and comfortably settle on his lap. He uses the back of his hand to wipe away the come, leisurely laps it up with the flat of his tongue. 

He watches Justin watch him, content to soak and soak in the attention.

Eventually, Justin leans in, kisses his mostly-clean lips, even though Sebastian’s pretty sure he can probably still taste himself. He doesn’t seem to mind, goes right ahead with running his tongue through Sebastian’s mouth a few times before pulling back. 

One of his big hands grips loosely around Sebastian’s still-hard cock. He thumbs over the slit with a thumb. 

“Anything you want, you’ve got it, Sebs,” Justin says into his ear, breath hot. “Just ask your daddy nice, yeah?”

Sebastian shivers, feels the goosebumps rise all across his skin lightening fast. 

The thing is, Justin doesn’t stop, he keeps playing with the tip of Sebastian’s cock, keeps squeezing his hand around the shaft, keeps whispering dirty, dirty things in Sebastian’s ear.

He can’t fucking think, he doesn’t even know what he wants. 

So instead, he huffs, frustrated, and buries his face in Justin’s chest.

“Hey, hey,” Justin coaxes him back, his free hand flying up to run through Sebastian’s hair, lightly massaging his scalp. “It’s okay, love, do you just want daddy to take care of you?”

Sebastian’s breath catches in his throat, and he tries to verbally agree, but all that comes out is a little noise, a high keen. Needy. So instead he nods, hopes it’s enough for Justin. 

“Okay, baby, okay,” Justin says. His hand goes lower, rubs soothing big circles all across his back. He massages in a few spots—easy enough to do with strong fingers—until Sebastian is thoroughly relaxed, practically putty in his hands. 

“That’s a good boy,” Justin murmurs into his hair as his fingers trail lower and lower until they’re wedged between his ass cheeks, just barely brushing over his hole. 

“Mmm,” Sebastian hums into Justin’s skin. 

“Yeah?” He presses a finger at his entrance, just a little, then runs it around the rim.

“Mhm,” Sebastian manages. 

It’s then he cranes his neck up, again, until Justin kisses him, sweetly this time. Justin uses it as a welcome distraction, though, removes the hand from Sebastian’s ass to reach for the nightstand, quickly finding the lube.

He keeps kissing him, through taking his hand off his dick, too, so he can get the cap open and pour the liquid over his fingers. The bottle gets dropped somewhere on the floor and Justin goes back to steadily tugging off the boy in his lap, fingers dancing wetly at his hole.

“Please,” Sebastian chokes out, pushing his butt out so the angle is a little bit easier, a little bit more accessible. 

“Anything for you,” Justin murmurs, “come undone for me, darling.”

And that’s when he presses in, first one finger to test him out, then quickly another when Sebastian opens up so beautifully for him. He doesn’t hold much back, easily groans right into Sebastian’s ear, keeps running dirty thoughts right to him.

It’s not hard for Justin to find Sebastian’s good spot, not when he’s looking for it and not when Sebastian silently directs him with the movement of his hips. 

When he finally finds it, a quick press over the the spot, Sebastian nearly doubles over, curling even further in on himself, then pressing as flush against Justin as he can manage. 

“H-h _ ah _ ,” Sebastian pants, incoherent, when Justin aims for it this time, fucks into him with his fingers and presses into that spot. There’s a burst of precome beading at his tip, which Justin easily spreads around with his thumb.

Sebastian is practically trashing in his hold now, trapped between his hands from either side. 

It’s like once Justin finds it, he’s all in. He doesn't let up, goes at it hard and hard and hard. In, in, in. 

He sucks lightly at the corner of Sebastian’s jaw, wet with a little bit of teeth, just enough to drive Sebastian wild. He pauses only to say something filthy, to push Sebastian’s buttons. 

“Little slut for me, aren’t you, baby?” He says, low and throaty. “Daddy’s little slut?”

“Fuck,” Sebastian groans, muffled. 

Justin doesn’t let up. “So talented, made for sucking cock, yeah?” He keeps going. “My little superstar, who would’ve thought you’d be such a whore.” He bites on Sebastian’s ear, sharp and quick. 

It’s at the same time he drives into that spot again, at the same time he swipes his thumb over the slit again. 

It’s everything at once, and Sebastian feels so surrounded at every angle, in every way. It’s only inevitable that he comes like that, with Justin so completely all around him, spurting in hard waves that coat the both of them. 

Justin grins, pumps him though it, hard and fast, all while massaging his prostate, relentless. Sebastian is grateful for Justin’s big house, for he’s sure he’s anything but quiet, his shouts still ringing in his own ears. 

He can barely breathe right, panting vigorously and eyes already beginning to droop. He feels heavy, suddenly, like he can barely keep himself up. 

Justin catches him, though, holds him up steady and kisses him closed-mouth and chaste until he’s calmed a little. Once his breathing is mostly even, Justin twists until he can lay him down on the pillows and slip off the bed himself.

Sebastian sees him stand and makes a noise, a little whiny.

“Shh, Sebs, it’s okay. I’m just getting a towel. I’ll be right back.”

He still doesn’t quite like Justin’s absence, but Sebastian lets him go, focuses more on not falling asleep yet. 

Sure enough, Justin returns, already clean and with a washcloth in hand. He wipes down Sebastian efficiently, but thorough. Sebastian leans into his touch, still, even if it’s not quite sensual. Even in the afterglow he warms at the notion of Justin taking care of him like this. 

“S’good to me,” Sebastian says.

Justin grins, flings the washcloth somewhere in the corner and crawls back in next to him. He pulls Sebastian close, tucks him under his arm and rearranges him until he’s rested on his chest. He kisses his forehead, just once.

“Least I can do. Anything for you, superstar.”

Satisfied, Sebastian finally lets his eyes fall shut, content to snuggle up against Justin’s warmth.

 

~

 

Sebastian tip-toes back into his own apartment just past noon, stomach full from a very considerate breakfast in bed and, well, maybe another round or two.

He doesn’t really know why he’s tip-toeing—it’s his own place and he’s an adult, after all—until he turns around and nearly screams.

“Teukka, what the  _ fuck _ !” Sebastian chokes, stalking up to none other that Teuvo, who looks pretty comfortable on the couch with a bowl of popcorn. You know, considering that it’s Sebastian’s couch and Sebastian’s popcorn. In Sebastian’s apartment. 

“Spare key,” Teuvo shrugs. Then, without missing a beat, “so how was he?”

“Oh my god.”

Teuvo holds up the popcorn in offering, doesn’t even look but waits until he feels Sebastian climb over the back of the couch and take a handful. “It’s noon, you naughty boy.”

Once Sebastian settles, he tosses a piece up in a nice arch, doesn’t even need to call out in order for Teuvo to lean back and catch it in his mouth. They high-five.

But Sebastian grins, then, shit-eating. “Sure is,” he finally replies. 

“Shameless,” Teuvo shakes his head, but it’s light, and Sebastian can tell that he’s trying his best not to laugh.

“Takes one to know one.” Sebastian reaches over and steals a throw pillow right out from under Teuvo’s arm.

Teuvo just rolls his eyes and stuffs his mouth full of popcorn. “What did I tell you, huh. Old men love that daddy shit. Always works. Like a charm.”

Just for that, Sebastian grabs the whole popcorn bowl and tugs at it until Teuvo eventually gives up and lets him have it. “Thanks, Teukka,” he sing-songs.

And if it’s for the popcorn or for the sex advice, well. Teuvo knows him well enough to figure it out for himself. 

  
  


_ (the end) _

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so I don't know how this is [the second time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16038728) this season I have had the opportunity to write a daddy kink fic based on a player calling another player "daddy" in media but here we are! This is a common thing! I couldn't make this shit up even if I tried!
> 
> [Here](https://twitter.com/PeteBlackburn/status/1100591509446033408)'s the interview where Sebastian Aho said Justin Williams is his daddy and [here](https://twitter.com/NHLBlackhawks/status/606506526224850944)'s that time his good buddy Teuvo Teräväinen once called Kimmo Timonen his dad. So basically they're both conniving little shits who share trade secrets and you cannot convince me otherwise!
> 
> Anyway, the title is from _Desire_ by Years & Years and if you'd like to see me freak out about things like this in real time you can find me on twitter @[pinkmanite](https://twitter.com/pinkmanite) lol


End file.
